Battle For The Crowns {A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction}

Chapter 5~ Reuniting With Miss Adler

Hello My Lovelies! I've missed writing for you all so much these past few days. Wattpad has become a daily thing for me, so it felt weird not being on it! That picture^ is one I took! If you'd like to keep it, go ahead. I won't judge.😉We all need the beach to help us get through some days!
<<<*>>>
"Alright bitch, you know I'm supposed to kill you on sight, correct? Brilliant, let's begin." I snarled, took the safety off, and aimed to kill.
<<<*>>>Third PoV
"Now, now Miss Jennings.." Irene tried soothing.
"No, no. I'm supposed to shoot you in the head, ruthlessly." Brooklyn replied angrily. "And where are your bloody clothes?"
She glanced over at Sherlock, who was looking at her with confusion and fear in his eyes.
"Brooklyn, can you put the guns away?" He asked quietly.
Her hardened expression softened a bit at the words of my friend, but then glanced back at Irene, who was smirking.
"I dunno. Irene, can I?" She snappishly asked.
"Yes, Brooklyn. I'm not going to do anything yet."
Brooklyn snarled and lowered my guns, just enough to slip them back in their holsters on my thighs.
"Speak." She commanded, and looked around to sit down.
Sherlock patted the arm of his chair, and She took it gratefully.
"If you insist, Miss Jennings.." Irene purred and leaned forward, "oh, and somebody loves you.. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid the nose and teeth too." She glanced at Brooklyn, who forced a laugh and fake smiled.
John clears his throat, "could you put something on please? Er, anything at all." He looks down at his plate. "A napkin?"
"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene asked.
Sherlock stood up and handed her his coat. "I don't think John knows where to look."
Irene walked over to John, who rolled his head away from her, and tried his hardest not to look downward.
"No, I think he knows exactly where." Irene whispered. She walked back over to Sherlock and took his jacket. "But I'm not sure you do."
Brooklyn bristled on the arm of the chair, and kept her gaze transfixed at Irene's head.
"If I wanted to look at naked women, I'd borrow John's laptop." Sherlock said.
"You do borrow my laptop."
"I confiscate it." He simply put it.
Irene slipped on the coat and put it around her. "Well, never mind. We have better things to talk about. Tell me, I need to know. How was it done?" She walked over to the couch opposite Sherlock and Brooklyn and sat down.
"What?" Brooklyn asked.
"The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was it done?"
"That's not why we're here.." Sherlock mumbled.
"Not why I'm here either!" Brooklyn chirped.
"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs." She pointed to Sherlock, "and you're here to kill me," she pointed to Brooklyn, "but neither is going to happen, and since we're just chatting here anyway..."
"That's story's not been on the news yet, how do you know about it?" John asked her.
"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes." She replied smoothly.
Brooklyn shuddered as John asked, "oh. And you like policemen?"
"I like detective stories- and detectives. Brainy is the new sexy."
Brooklyn rolled her eyes and snorted while glancing at Sherlock.
His mouth was open and he spoke gibberish, "positionofthecar"
The other three stared, confused, as he pulled himself together and said calmly, "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."
"Okay tell me, how was he murdered?" Irene asked.
"He wasn't."
"You don't think he was murdered?"
"I know he wasn't." Sherlock replied.
"How?" She inquired.
"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room."
"Okay, but how?"
Brooklyn scoffed at Irene's mistake, as Irene looked at her, confused.
"So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in." Sherlock told him strictly. They shared a significant look, and John nodded, before leaving the room quietly.
"So! Two men alone in the countryside, seven yards apart, and one car." Sherlock told her.
"Um, I thought you were looking for the photographs now?" Irene asked.
"No, no. Looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass the time." He replied as he looked at her. "Two men, a car, and nobody else."
~~~
Suddenly, all three people are standing in the field that the man was killed in, as if they were all there.
Phil, the driver, slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, and got out of the car.
"The drivers trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere." Sherlock told the women, as he looked into the field, towards the hiker. "And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky."
Now all three are walking around the hiker, who is also frozen in time, just like Phil.
"Watching the birds?" Sherlock asked doubtfully. "Any moment now, something's going to happen."
"The hiker's going to die." Irene said.
"No, that's the result. Now what's going to happen?" Brooklyn stressed.
"See, she gets it." Sherlock said.
"I don't understand!" Irene exclaimed.
"Well, try to." He responded.
"Why?"
"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think. It's the new sexy."
"The car's going to backfire." She mumbled.
"No, there's going to be a loud noise."
"So, what?" She asked.
"Oh, noises are important! Noises can tell you everything." Brooklyn said.
"For instance.." Sherlock finished.
~~~
They zoomed back to the sitting room, that they never really left, and the fire alarm started going off.
Sherlock and Brooklyn glanced at each other, quickly and warily, then towards Irene, who was staring at the mirror on the mantlepiece, instead of a person.
John walked in with the magazine on fire, that he was quickly trying to put out, while listening to Sherlock speaking.
"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities."
He ran his fingers over the mantlepiece, and found a small button to lift away the mirror.
"I really hope you don't have a baby in there, Adler." Brooklyn told her.
"Alright John, you can turn it off now." Sherlock called through the room, getting irritated with the noise. A few seconds passed and it was still beeping.
"I SAID YOU COULD TURN IT OFF NOW!" He yelled louder.
"Yeah, give me a minute!" John called back, thwacking the flaming paper on the table, and wincing as sparks flew off.
"Oh for God's sake!" Brooklyn snapped, and grabbed the magazine, and dipped it in the water John had brought in earlier.
Suddenly, three men ran down the stairs, aiming pistols at everybody.
Before anyone could blink, Brooklyn had her two pistols out, and pointed at two of the guards.
One of them shot the bloody smoke alarm, and John mumbled, "thank you."
Sherlock, however, could care less, and was staring at the keypad on the wall.
"Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used – that's quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday – no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so..."
"I'd tell you the code right now, but you know what, I already have." Irene said. "Think."
Another man busted through the door, and began yelling things. He was obviously the leader of this little killer group.
"Hands behind your head!" He looked at Irene, "on the floor. Keep it still."
Another man ran over to her, and pushes her towards John, who was also being bundled on the floor.
"Sorry, Sherlock." He said. 
"Commander Jennings?" The man asked.
"Ah! Neilson! It's a pleasure to see you again. How's the wife?" Brooklyn responded.
"Very nice, thanks. We've got a little one now. Her names Clarissa Marie." He smiled back.
Brooklyn gasped, "you didn't!!"
"We did. We owe you for that murder charge!" He exclaimed.
"Aw, thank you! Shouldn't you be.. You know, intimidating people?" She asked him, and indicated towards Sherlock, Irene, and John.
"Ah yes."
"Don't you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked him.
"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." He replied.
"American. Interesting. Why would you care?"
"Sir, the safe. Now."
"I don't know the code." Sherlock responded.
"We've been listening. She said she told you."
"Well, if you'd been listening, then you'd know she didn't."
"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr Holmes." Neilson snapped.
"For God's sake! She's the one who knows the code, Neilson! Ask her!" Brooklyn said.
"Yes, Commander, I know. But she also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman." He responded.
"Mr. Holmes doesn't know-" Irene began.
"Shut up. One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship."
Sherlock glared at him and snarled.
"Mr Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson." Neilson said calmly.
"What?!" John and Brooklyn asked.
"One." Neilson stated.
"I don't know the code!" Sherlock said empathetically.
"Two."
"She didn't tell me. I DON'T KNOW IT!" Sherlock yelled.
"I'm prepared to believe you any second now."
"Three."
"No, stop!" Sherlock and Brooklyn yelled.
She walked over to him, and mumbled, "something personal and close to her; measurements, perhaps?"
He nodded and quickly typed in a '3', '2', '2', '4', '3', '4' sequence.
The safe clicked, and the flashing lights turned off.
Everyone in the room sighed in relief, except Irene, who just smirked at Sherlock happily.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please." Neilson said.
Brooklyn's and Sherlock's eyes opened wide, and they looked at Irene, who looked at the floor, and made a jerking movement with her head.
"Vatican Cameos!" Sherlock yelled, and John, Brooklyn, and he all threw themselves to the floor as the machine gun went off in the safe. It hit almost everyone in the room, and the ones who weren't killed, were knocked unconscious by Brooklyn or Sherlock.
"Thank you. You were very observant." Irene told Sherlock.
"Observant?" John asked.
"I'm flattered." She replied.
Brooklyn gave a small cough for recognition as Sherlock said, "don't be."
"Flattered?" John asked.
Brooklyn scoffed and rolled her eyes, "don't even worry about it. She's not worth it."
He just nodded in response and looked at Sherlock with an expectation for an explanation.
"We should call the police."
"Yes."
The men walked outside, and Sherlock fired five shots into the air. Nearby, tires screeched and stopped.
"On their way!" He told John.
"For God's sake!"
Brooklyn snapped her head around at the words, 'on their way.'
"Alright. Police? That's my cue to leave." She mumbled, and turned towards the door.
"Bye, Miss Jennings.." Irene purred after her.
Brooklyn just flipped her off and kept walking. John passed her and walked into the room where Irene was.
"Sherlock!" Brooklyn hissed, and pulled him aside.
"What?" He mumbled.
"Be very careful with her. She's a right devil, and will trick you in anyway possible. She can't be trusted. I made that mistake a long time ago, and I'm preventing you from doing the same. Just.. Watch yourself."
Sherlock frowned at her words, and simply nodded.
Brooklyn sighed and walked out, heading towards her flat.
<<<*>>>
GUYYYSSS!! 65 READS.. Thank you thank you thank you!! This means so much to me, you don't even know. Love you!
(Oh, and I'm working on my Benny Cumberbatch story at the moment..yay!)